


Too many drinks

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dinner, Drinking, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Loving Marriage, Middle Earth, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Old Age, Old Married Couple, One Shot, Romance, Second Age, Some Humor, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:31:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: Celebrimbor and Narvi have a pleasant evening on the anniversary of their wedding





	Too many drinks

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: This was inspired by the old classic “Dinner for one”, and I thought it to be fun to test a variant of it with Celebrimbor and an old Narvi for Valentine’s day.

Celebrimbor was pleased with how he had fixed the dinner table. In her old age, Narvi had gotten weaker eyesight and thus he needed to ensure that things did not turn difficult for her while eating. It was sad that she no longer trusted herself to work with stone, but as she had said herself, what if she ended up hitting her hand instead of the stone and damaged it so badly that she could not use it at all?        

“Ah, you arrived just in time, dearest,” he smiled as an elderly Dwarrowdam came down the stairs, dressed in comfortable clothes that still was a bit of the flashion she had been so fond of as a young Dam. Narvi returned the smile, laying her hand on his offered arm so they could walk to the table.  

 

“Charmer there, are you trying to flatten me with a nice dinner?” she asked. 

 

“Is a husband not allowed to spoil his wife?” 

 

Narvi laughed before she was seated on her place at the table. Celebrimbor himself hurried to bring in the first course. It was a favorite soup of theirs, made with spring vegetables. 

 

“I think some apple cider will fit the soup.” Narvi suggested, which Celebrimbor agreed. Knowing the how well Dwarves could drink, he took a bottle with higher alcohol than the Elves would drink. 

 

“The Lady requested some apple cider.”  

 

Though the cider was stronger than what he was used to, Celebrimbor managed to keep his involuntary shudder under control as to not alarm her. Once they were finished with the soup, Narvi suggested that they should have fish next with their shared favorite ale.

 

“Tell if you want more, honey.”

 

Celebrimbor strongly believed that now in her old age Narvi had started to agree with her long deceased grandmother, Frigga, that despite being muscular for a Elf, he was rather skinny by Dwarven standards and thus needed to put more meat on his bones.  

 

“It is enough for now,” he quickly said as Narvi was about to refill his wine glass despite that he just had been drinking up the last of the ale. 

 

Even if Celebrimbor was good at drinking, he could sense that this evening was most likely going to be regretted if he kept trying to match Narvi in how many glasses she already had been emptying. 

 

“Hm hm,” she muttered for herself, her mind a bit absent as it could be at times those days when she had entered old age. Not that Celebrimbor truly would complain. 

 

Once he had gotten the plates with roasted chicken and root vegetables, Narvi opened a bottle with some Elven wine to have to the dish. Soon, Celebrimbor had lost count on how many glasses he had, the proof being that he slightly swayed on his feet for balance as he was about to bring in the dessert. 

 

“Honey, are you all right?” asked Narvi when she spotted this. In response, her Elven husband tried to act normally as if he was sober, which was far from the most easy thing to do. Narvi might be old, but her mind was still more than enough clear and her eyes sharp enough to spot any odd behaviour of his. Despite that she most likely was more than a whole Age of the Sun younger than him, she knew Celebrimbor in the way only a wife could do. 

 

“I am perfectly fine,” he responded in a slightly slurred voice, barely avoiding the family altar where hand-drawn portraits of their long-deceased family members were standing. 

 

Realizing that he would deny being drunk if she kept asking, Narvi chose to keep silent for now. Instead she rose her glass for a new toast once they had finished the dessert. 

 

“Happy anniversary of our wedding day!” 

 

It seemed like this glass of wine was the final one for Celebrimbor, since he nearly tripped as he started to gather plates and nearly pulled her chair to the floor in an effort to stabilize himself. The combined weight of Narvi and her many layers of clothing prevented anything bad happening.

 

“I think, that we both need to retreat for the day. Leave the washing of the dishes to be done by the kitchen boy,” Narvi commented, referring to the two young Dwarves who had entered their service as a set of house servants-of-all-work some years earlier. With her current age and Celebrimbor focusing on care for her between his work in the forge, their house would be neglected otherwise.  

 

“In the bed?” 

 

There was a hint of humour in his voice, and true enough, Celebrimbor could barely stand on his own two feet now. Hiding a laugh, Narvi simply bent down a bit and lifted her Elven husband up in the air, holding him around his thighs so he did not longer touch the floor. She took a long glare at his face.

 

“The day you  _ finally _ start growing a beard you are not allowed to cut it. Hear that, darling? And you are going to look so handsome, too!”

 

“If Lord Cirdan's beard is anything to go by, I am afraid that it is going to grow very slowly…”  

 

Celebrimbor felt Narvi make a different movement, and suddenly found his face far closer to the stone floor than before, himself now flung over her shoulder. 

 

“Enough small talk, you need to sleep off all that alcohol before I let you go anywhere close to the forge.”  

 

Walking upstairs, she made sure to not hit his head on the stairs by mistake just because of their height difference.

 

“I do not think you have changed much from your younger days, darling…” 

 

That much was true. Narvi may have been born with very light blonde hair and beard, which had turned into white-blonde under the harsh sun of the Orocarni far away in the East. Now, as she had aged, they had barely seen the first silver hairs before it had taken much part of her hair. At the moment, her hair braid and beard was snow white, bringing out her darker skin and green eyes.

 

“My, thank you, my dear silver-fist named husband. And you have barely changed at all.” 

 

A drunk laugh left his lips, both smiling as Narvi opened the door to their bedroom and went inside.          


End file.
